


The Fake Psychic, the Real Time Lord, and the Pharmaceutical Representative

by TheFireWithin



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Psych
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8628244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFireWithin/pseuds/TheFireWithin
Summary: When Shawn sees an unusual murder, he jumps to the natural conclusion-an alien did it. But with the help of a mysterious new friend, he begins to wonder if his theory holds more truth than he originally thought.





	1. Prologue

Seven-year old Shawn Spencer burst into his house, along with his best friend, Burton Guster.

"Dad! Dad! We saw an alien!"

"What?" Henry walked into the room, still in his uniform. "Shawn, aliens aren't real."

"But we saw it!"

"Actually we heard it first." Gus corrected. "You see, Mr. Spencer—"

"We were playing outside and we heard a weird noise, like…."

"Like if Darth Vader inhaled helium," Gus said slowly.

"Exactly! And, Dad, when we looked, we saw a Port-a-Potty appear!"

"And a man walked out of it!"

"With a girl!"

"Okay, calm down you two." Henry sounded only slightly exasperated. "Where did you see this magic Port-a-Potty?"

"Down the street! By the old Melborne house!"

Henry sighed. "Where they're doing construction?"

"Yeah!"

"Shawn, Gus did either of you actually see the Port-a-Potty appear out of thin air?"

"Well…"

"Not exactly. But it just appeared. I mean, come on, Dad, one second it's not there, then it is. And there was that noise!"

"That was probably just the truck delivering the toilet. Aliens don't exist."

"Then why did two people leave it?" Shawn asked accusingly.

"Yeah," Gus pondered. "It would be uncomfortable for two people to be in a tiny place like that."

"What would they even be doing in there?"

"Quite frankly, I don't want to know. That's their business. But aliens aren't real, okay?"

"Yes, Dad." Shawn hung his head, disappointed.


	2. Chapter 1

Shawn Spencer was in his office, doing research in the hopes of finding a new case. Well, Gus was doing research. Shawn was trying to get the top score in Slitherio, a new computer game he recently discovered.

"Shawn, are you going to help me or not?" Gus snapped, having realized Shawn was not, in fact researching a new case.

"Of course I'll help, Gus. Just as soon as I eat this little snakey thing—dang it!" he cried, seeing his snake dissolve before his very eyes. "Oh, Pineapple Express, you were a good little snake-worm. You just couldn't make it. In my eyes, you'll always be…one of the greats."

"Are you done now, Shawn? Some of us have real jobs to do."

"Gus, don't be a newborn puppy nibbling a carrot. This game is quite informative and educational."

"That game is just you being a snake trying not to get eaten by other snakes. Chief Vick hasn't called in over a month. Aren't you even a little bit concerned?"

"I try to live in the moment. And at the moment, Pineapple Express the Second is trying to evade Hitler_is--…" Shawn looked up. "Do they monitor these names?"

"Shawn"

Shawn was saved by the ringing of the phone. He quickly picked it up.

"Hello? Oh, Chief Vick, so good to hear from you." He looked at Gus, and mouthed "suck it."

"You suck it!"

"Oh, a case?" Shawn ignored Gus. "At the museum? We'll be right there." He hung up the phone.

"I call shotgun!"

"We're the only two people!"

"It never hurts to stay in practice for emergency shotgun-calling moments."

"Whatever, Shawn. C'mon."

*cue epic Doctor Who/Psych theme song mashup*

"Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed. "What have we got?"

Detective Carlton Lassiter gestured at the corpse, a young woman with pale skin and dark hair, her eyes burned out of her sockets, bits of dried blood around her mouth. Shawn also immediately noticed dried blood around her fingernails and inside her ears.

Gus gagged.

"Meet Anna Graystone, age 28, museum tour guide, single, parents deceased, one sister, Nicole, lives in Canada." Lassiter stated.

"Dude, Anna has seen better days." Shawn muttered to Gus.

"Obviously! The girl is dead, Shawn!" Gus whisper-shouted.

"Her eyes, though. Look at them."

"I'd rather not, Shawn."

"But look, they aren't just burned out. It looks like they melted. Whoever did this must have used some kind of poison that not only causes disgustingly bloody mouths, but eye melting-ness as well. What does that?"

"Nothing, Shawn! There is no poison that I can think of that causes your eyes to melt!"

"I AM GETTING A VISION! ANNA GRAYSTONE…was murdered."

"Yeah, Shawn. We've already figured that out." Juliet sounded only moderately exasperated.

"By…an alien."

"Oh, come off it, Spencer. You tried the alien theory before, remember?" Lassiter said. "If you're going to waste our time, at least be original about it."

"This alien," Shawn continued, ignoring Lassiter completely. "climbed inside our victim, and turned her insides into bloodied Jell-O pudding."

"There is an unusual amount of blood surrounding her orifices..." Lassiter noted.

"It's disgusting that you would even notice that about a corpse. You should be looking around her eyes, ears, mouth, and wherever else your head would have a hole."

"Let's get this body to the morgue. Maybe Woody can tell us more."

Suddenly, Lassiter's phone began to ring.

"Detective Carlton Lassiter….yes, Chief. We can be there in about ten minutes…Do they have to come along?...Fine." He hung up and looked at his group. "There's been reports of screams over by the pier. It could be another victim. Come on."


	3. Chapter 3

With a weird groaning, wheezing noise, a strange blue box mysteriously appeared on the beach. One of the doors opened, and a young woman wearing a tan jacket ran out, but stopped quickly, blocking the way out.

"Oi, Doctor!" she called out. "This doesn't look like Lexistorn to me!"

"No?" A tall man wearing a trench coat pushed her gently out of the way and stepped outside. "Ah, no. We're still on Earth. Twenty-first century…" He crouched down and rubbed some sand between his fingers. "United States of America…" He tasted the remaining sand on his fingers. "Santa Barbara, California. Ooh, I love California. Well, I say love. For America, it's not bad."

The woman looked at the Doctor. "Still not Lexistorn."

"No, but there's a beach. And look!" He pointed away from the beach, towards a row of buildings. "Shops! You like shops, right?" He grinned somewhat nervously, noting the woman did not look happy. "I'm sure I've got some American currency somewhere…" He felt in various pockets, noting one had a hole. He'd have to get that fixed. Ah, there it was. "Here you go! Now, um, you can go over to a shop and…ahh...do shoppy…stuff."

"Seriously? You want me to wander off?" The woman grinned, amused.

"Just for a little bit. The TARDIS isn't feeling well, and I want to stay here for a little bit and make sure she's okay."

"Do you want me to stay with? Keep you company?"

"Nahhh. You go and have fun. I'll be there in a moment or two." A loud crashing noise emitted from the TARDIS and smoke started pouring out the open door. "Or five…"

"All right. But if you need me.."

"Martha Jones, I promise I will call the moment I need you."

With a grin, the woman dashed off.

"Now, let's see what's wrong with you, huh?" Just as the Doctor was about to enter, he heard a loud scream.

He ran off, paused, ran back to the TARDIS, shut the door, and ran back toward the sound of the screams.

Near the docks, he saw a young blond woman lying on the ground, blood seeping out the corners of her eyes and mouth. The Doctor raced toward her and gently raised her up.

"What's wrong. What are you?"

"Too…strong. Help." The woman moaned weakly.

"Who are you? Let me help."

"It burns. It's burning so much…"

"Yes, yes, I know. Please, tell me your name." the Doctor begged.

"I-I can't…won't work."

"Please, your name."

"Hurts…so…much…"

"Please what are you?!"

With a blinding blue light, the woman let out a final shriek, and went limp in the Doctor's arms, her eyes now a bloodied mush, blood dripping out her ears and mouth as well.

"No, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor said, a single tear dripping down his face as he gently laid the girl down on the sand. "Let—let's see what was in you, alright?" Reaching into his coat pocket—

"SBPD! Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em!"


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am SO SORRY I haven't updated recently! First school, then election drama, then school AND election drama... EHNYWAY... I gave you TWO chapters to make up for it! ..... Please don't be mad.

As they approached the pier, the first thing they noticed was a tall man hovering over a body.

"SBPD! Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em!" Lassie shouted as he raced out of the car, gun pointed towards the man.

The man slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, and raised it, along with his left hand, into the air. "I was just…" he trailed off, looking at the body, covered in dried blood, then back up to Lassie and the rest of the group as they caught up. "Okay, I can see how this looks bad, but I do have a reasonable explanation! I'm—" He reached into his coat pocket, and felt the hole. Oh, no. It must be in the TARDIS. "Apparently, I have a hole in my pocket. If you'll just let me go, I can fetch some ID that I'm sure will clear things up." He smiled, somewhat unconvincingly.

"Like I'm letting you go, you psycho." Lassie snapped handcuffs on the man, and led him towards the car.

"I'm not psycho! Well, not completely psycho."

"Says the man wearing a trenchcoat in Santa Barbara in the middle of the summer!" Gus retorted.

"And you're wearing sneakers with a suit." Lassie snarled.

"Guys! Can we please not critique the fashion choices of a possible murder?" Juliet asked.

"It really depends on what he's wearing." Gus responded.

Juliet stopped and glared.

"Ahem, I mean, of course we can not critique."

Juliet smiled.

"I can clear this all up. You see, I'm—"

"Save it for the interrogation, Dick Van Dyke." Lassiter snarled, shoving the man into the car.

"Oi! Dick van Dyke?! That's a bit harsh, now."

...

At the station, Lassiter was in the interrogation room with the man. The strange man seemed quite comfortable for a man who was being questioned for murder, leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.

"Let's start small, shall we?" Lassiter grinned briefly, then returned to his glare. "Name."

"Can't I have a snack first? I'm a bit peckish."

"No, give me your name."

"All right, I'm the Doctor. Now, can I have a banana?"

"God, it's like interrogating Spencer. You're doctor what, exactly?"

"Just the Doctor."

"Mm-hm. Is that some kind of code name? Are you in a gang?"

"What? No! I did join a polka band once, though. I was on accordion."

"Ugh."

"Don't like polka?"

"No, it's the armpit of the music industry…no, rap is. Polka is more like the…I'm interrogating you!"

"Not doing a very good job, are you?" The Doctor grinned.

"Listen here, buddy. I'll try this one more time. What. Is. Your. Name?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor Who?!" Lassie slammed his hands down on the table and glared at the Doctor, inches away from his face.

"I knew you'd get there! Oh, I love it when they say that. Can I have my phone call now?"

Lassiter looked ready to strangle the Doctor, so it was a good thing Juliet entered the room, holding a manila folder. It was less of a good thing that she was followed by Shawn and Gus.

"I've got a witness statement from the second murder. Lady saw him—" she pointed to the doctor "talking to the victim before she died."

"What did you say to her, you sick, sick man?"

"I was trying to see what was killing her!" The Doctor insisted. "You see, I am Doctor John Smith, a detective in London. I was on holiday with my friend when I—Martha!"

"Well, Doctor," Lassie sneered. "You got any ID to back up that outlandish story of yours?"

"I dropped it! If you'd let me go back…" He trailed off, noticing that wouldn't work. He tried a different tactic. "My friend can fetch it! If you'll let me call my friend…!"

"Martha. Right."

"Really! I need to call her!"

"You are in the middle of an interrogation."

"Which I can clear up with my ID!"

"I am questioning you!"

"You can't be doing a very good job." Shawn said. "Didn't even have his name until we showed up."

"Or have any kind of story." Gus added.

"Oh, I like them." The Doctor said. "Can't they interrogate me instead?"

"Ooh, can we? I've always wanted to interrogate a weird British guy."

"Since when, Shawn?"

"Since I saw the fourth Harry Potter movie, Gus. The scene where they questioned the fake Moody was very emotional."

"I hear that." Gus and Shawn fist bumped.

"Will you two knock it off?" Lassie snapped.

"Carlton's right." Juliet said. "Besides, the fourth movie was mediocre at best. Moody didn't even look right."

"Not to mention the lack of Winky." Lassie grumbled.

Everyone stared at him.

"What? That house-elf played a very important part in the fourth and fifth books. I did like that Barty Crouch Junior character, though."

"You liked that psychopath?" Gus asked incredulously.

"He wasn't that bad." The Doctor interrupted. "And—"

"Zip it, Doc." Lassie snapped. "O'Hara, please escort our suspect to make a phone call while I look over this report."

"Of course, Carlton. Come on, Doctor."

The Doctor peered over Lassiter's shoulder as he got up. "Can I see that?"

"No!" Everyone in the room shouted.

Pouting slightly, the Doctor exited the room, led by Juliet.

...

"So, I can't help but notice the differences in personalities in your team." The Doctor said as he was being led to the phone. "The two blokes than came in with you—not very detective-y, are they?"

"I'll have you know Shawn is the best psychic detective this force has ever seen." Juliet responded as they reached a payphone-type phone. "You get one call. Make it count."

"Of course, Miss O'Hara." The Doctor flashed Juliet a grin as he dialed.

"Hello?" Came a very confused sounding voice over the phone.

"Martha!" The Doctor exclaimed happily.

"Doctor? Is that you?"

"Yes. Now listen very carefully. I need you to bring me—"he glanced over at Juliet, who was watching him closely. "My, um, ID. I'm currently at the Santa Barbara Police Department—"

"Did you seriously get yourself arrested? We haven't even been here two hours!"

"What can I say, I don't like wasting time. But Martha, I found a body."

"Doctor, please tell me they didn't—"

"Yes."

"Doctor"

"Martha, the body," he lowered his voice. "The body was definitely our area."

"What? You think an alien…"

"Yes. And I need you bring me my ID immediately so we can investigate I won't be prime suspect!"

"Wait…you don't have your psychic paper?"

"No! It must have fallen out of my coat pocket!"

"I told you to lose the trench coat."

"Never!"

"Where's the paper?"

"It's in the TARDIS." He noted Juliet looking strangely at him. "That's what we named our…rental car." He told her. "Please hurry, Martha."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, I'll be right there. Just…try not to get in any more trouble before I get there."

"Oh, you know me, Martha. I avoid trouble like the plague."


	5. Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, once again in the interrogation room, with a very frustrated Lassiter still getting nowhere, the group heard a knock on the door.

"Guys?" Buzz McNabb opened the door cautiously. "I've got a girl here who says she needs to see the Doctor."

"McNabb, do you have any idea how unprofessional this is?" Lassie snapped, extremely frustrated at the lack of response he had been getting from trying to talk with the Doctor, made only worse one Shawn and Gus had decided to join in with their own questions, mostly concerning fish and chips, and why the British called "fries," "chips."

"Doctor!" A pretty dark-skinned woman pushed around McNabb. "I've got your ID!"

"Brilliant!" Before anyone could stop him, the Doctor ran up and snatched a piece of folded leather. "I knew I could count on you Martha!" He unfolded it and held it up to Lassiter. "See?"

"Detective Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard? And an M16 agent?" Lassie read. "Is this legit?" He snatched it from the Doctor, and seemed unsatisfied by whatever he deduced from his impromptu inspection.

Shawn laughed. "You feeling okay, Lassie. 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's blank. Nice though, British Guy."

"Um, Shawn?" Gus muttered. "That paper is definitely not blank. I'm pretty sure it has a recommendation from the Queen."

"Yeah, Shawn, it's definitely legit. And not blank." Juliet added, having grabbed the paper and inspected it.

"No, there's nothing on it." Shawn insisted.

"You really can't see anything?" The Doctor asked, intrigued.

Shawn looked around the room, noting just how everyone looked at the paper. If they really couldn't see anything, they were doing a really good job of pretending. So Shawn faked a laugh.

"Of course I can see it, Doc. I was just…you know…messing with you."

The Doctor nodded but seemed unconvinced.

"Doctor, how can he...?" Martha trailed off, looking at Shawn curiously. "I mean, he's no Shakespeare."

"Why would I want to be some old guy with no hair?" Shawn asked. "Speaking of, your hair is very impressive, my British mate. The British say 'mate,' right?"

"Yep." The Doctor popped his 'p.' "And my I add, your hair is quite nice yourself."

"Oh, stop." Shawn waved his hand, chuckling slightly. "Just because I have been gifted with both psychic abilities and a head full of rich, thick hair, doesn't mean I want it brought up all the time."

"Then why do you always bring it up?" Gus asked. "And your hair is not that great. I'd give it a six out of ten, tops."

"Oh, come on, Gus. It's at least a nine."

"I'd say seven, maybe seven-point-five." The Doctor put in.

Shawn seemed to accept this, and inspected the Doctor. He noted the sand still in the Doctor's fingernails, the darkened circles barely noticeable under his eyes, and moved to Martha, where he noticed a faint bruise on her wrist and the way she held herself, like she was prepared to run or fight at the drop of a hat. He also noticed how the Doctor subtly placed himself slightly in front of her, as if to protect her from some unforeseen danger.

Shawn placed his fingers to his temple. "I'm sensing you and your friend aren't from around here. That you travel a lot."

"What was your first clue, Spencer? The accents?" Lassie rolled his eyes and snatched the ID from Juliet.

"I'm also sensing you two have seen your fair share of danger. That you have fought a lot... and lost some good people recently, who you were close to..."he was planning on going into detail, but the raw pain behind the Doctor's eyes made him hesitate. "But..." he noticed the excitement behind Martha's eyes. "You love it. You wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Your 'abilities' are even sadder than usual Spencer. Obviously these agents have fought a lot of dirtbags." Lassiter looked at the paper one more time, and reluctantly handed it back to the Doctor. "So, what? You and Scotland Yard gonna take this over? Something of international importance?" Surprisingly, his voice had only a hint of sarcasm.

"As a matter of fact, I do need control over the situation. We've seen a few of these back in England. A couple of dukes, maybe a duchess or two. I think my friend and I have this covered. Although…" he thought for a moment, then apparently made a decision. "I could use a psychic."

"No! No way does Spencer get to work on this and I don't. No way!" Lassiter fumed.

Shawn half-raised his hand. "Do we get diplomatic immunity?"

"No."

"Then we accept."

"We?"

"Every consulting psychic needs a lovely cocoa-colored companion."

"A companion! Perfect!" The Doctor grinned again, and with a dramatic flourish of his trenchcoat, turned and exited the room, followed by Martha Jones, Shawn Spencer, and Burton Guster.


	6. Chapter 5

"So, who are you really?" Shawn asked as soon as they left the building.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor asked innocently. "I'm just your regular—"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, 'Nope?'"

"I mean, 'nope.' Don't buy it. No way are you, my trenchcoat-ed and besneaker-ed British pal, are you regular or average in any way. I mean, you obviously have connections, and some kind of heroic complex, but what else?"

"Complex?" the Doctor sounded offended.

"Oh come on. The spirits are telling me—"

"Nope."

"Excuse me?"

"What? If I can't lie, neither can you. And you are most certainly not psychic."

"Yeah, I am."

"Nope. And really, it will save us time if you drop this silly charade when it's just the four of us. This is very important."

"Guys!" Juliet called from the top of the steps. "Woody just finished with the autopsy. You might wanna see this."

...

"Welcome!" Woody exclaimed to the large group, consisting not only of the four on the case, but Lassie and Juliet as well. "It's always nice to see new people interested in cadavers."

"They're investigating. And busy." Lassie said, still upset over being excluded.

"Of course." Woody nodded. "Would you care for a cheese cracker before we begin?" He offered a plate filled with dainty little cheese slices over round crackers.

Shawn and the Doctor immediately grabbed a cracker, and after a slight hesitation, Gus selected one too.

"Seriously?" Martha asked the Doctor, grinning.

"What?"

"There is a corpse in the room."

"It's not like the food was on the corpse….It wasn't on the corpse, was it?"

"Of course not." Woody set the snack plate down and pulled the sheet down from the face of the corpse.

"This is Brenda Lively, our second victim."

"She doesn't seem very lively to me." Shawn's quip was met with silence and stares. "Carry on."

"As you can tell from the blood in her ears, it appears she suffered from major cerebral hemorrhaging before she died. However, her brain, along with her internal organs, seems to have…melted. I mean, it is soup in there. Reddish soup with little hunks of intestines and stomach, with a hint of liver—"

Gus gagged. "We get it, Woody."

"Really?" The Doctor asked, intrigued. "Just like that? Intestine stew?"

"Much closer to a soup, actually. You see, stews tend to be thicker, with more meat, usually in larger hunks. Her organs were almost completely liquefied, save for a few bits of tissue here and there."

"What about her bones?"

"That's what's really weird. With all this damage to the organs, you'd think her skeletal system would look similar, right? Wrong! Muscles, bones, tendons—all completely intact! And in decent shape. Brenda must have worked out."

"Huh." The Doctor eyed Juliet and Lassiter. "Would you mind leaving for a few? I have a few tests I need to run myself."

"Certainly." Woody agreed. "I need to check on my pet parakeet anyway. She has the measles."

"Spencer, Gus? You two can stay."

"Are you sure?" Martha asked.

"If we're going to work together, they need to know as much as we do."

"That's right!" Lassie exclaimed. "We need to stick together."

"This is just getting sad, Carlton." Juliet sighed and escorted Lassiter out of the room.

As soon as the Doctor was sure they were gone, he took a small metallic object out of his pocket and pointed it at the corpse. A buzzing sound came from it the end emitted a blue light.

"Um, what is that?" Gus asked.

"My sonic screwdriver."

"Right." Gus smiled and leaned toward Shawn. "Shawn, the dude has a magic wand."

"Gus, that is obviously not a wand. Wands are more stick-like, and have unicorn blood in them."

"No, they have unicorn hair in them. Unicorn blood is what Voldemort drinks in book one!"

"Technically, Professor Quirrell drank the unicorn blood." Martha spoke up.

"You read Harry Potter?" Gus asked, impressed.

"And seen all the movies."

Gus grinned. "Did you hear about Pluto? That's messed up, right?"

"Dude, seriously? Doc is scanning a corpse with goo for eyes right in front of you, with his sonic looks-nothing-like-a screwdriver, and you're flirting?"

"Shut up, Shawn. She reads, and she's obviously adventurous, and she's British."

"You know I can still hear you."

"A-HA!" The Doctor straightened up and looked at the screwdriver. "I'm seventy-eight percent sure I know what we're dealing with!"

"What?" Martha asked.

"Keh-Sha."

"The singer?" Gus asked.

"Don't be daft. The Keh-Sha are an alien species with no corpeal body. On Gystehlia, their home planet, they generally inhabit living non-entities, closer to plants that people, though they do resemble humans to a degree. My guess is that a group crash-landed here and attempted to inhabit Miss Lively, and got so scared they burned her up from the inside, liquefying her internal organs. You see, the Keh-Sha are powered by emotion. The stronger the feeling, the stronger they burn. They were frightened when they entered the body, causing her to be even more frightened then one normally would, which in turn scared the Keh-Sha even more, causing a chain reaction until—"

"Organ soup." Martha finished.

"Um, yeah. Just one question?" Shawn half raised his hand. "What planet are you from?"

"Gallifrey. Anything else? Because we need to find the Keh-Sha and take them home before anyone else dies."

"You're an alien." Gus stated.

"Yup."

"And she's…?"

"Human, and she can hear you!" Martha snapped. "I just travel with him."

"Through space."

"And time" Shawn added helpfully.

"How did you know that?" the Doctor asked. "And please hold the psychic bit."

"Fine. If you must know, it was your hair. There is some residue in it that coincides with early English architecture."

"Really?"

"No. Between the alien thing and the Shakespeare talk, I guessed."

Gus then cut in. "I'm sorry, but I've had my fill of crazy for the day. If the three of you want to play alien, go ahead. I'll be at home, enjoying a delicous bowl of Lucky Charms."

"Gus, c'mon. Aliens."

"No, Shawn. Crazy. And I don't feel like baby-sitting all three of you. I'm out."

"You can't be out. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. It only happens once in your life. I mean, its right there in the name."

"Shawn, aliens do not exist. And if they did, they would look like little green men or nasty worm-things that hatch from your stomach, not like a British guy in a trenchcoat!"

"Then explain the sonic hand-dryer."

"Screwdriver! It's a sonic screwdriver!" The Doctor interjected.

"Who would make a sonic screwdriver?" Shawn asked. "I mean, you have all this futuristic technology at your fingertips, and you build a sonic screwdriver? Why not a sonic handgun? Or toaster?"

"I don't like weap-did you say toaster?"

"Yes. You could have perfectly toasted toast, any time you wanted...provided you have the bread."

"Hmm" The Doctor studied his screwdriver as Gus quietly began making his way to the door. "I suppose I could add a new setting...Martha, what do you think about using the sonic to make breakfast?"

"That thing?". Martha laughed. "Sorry Doctor, I'd rather–"

"Gus!" Shawn cried, grabbing him before he assed him. "C'mon, man. Aliens! It'll be like when we were kids!"

"What? And saw a port-a-potty?"

"That may or may not have contained extra-terrestrial life forms."

"It didn't."

"I'm bored with this now.". The Doctor decided. He grabbed a stethescope from a nearby table and crossed over to Gus, popping the ear pieces in Gus's ears, ignoring his objections, and placing the third end on his own chest. "Listen.". After a moment, he moved the stethescope over slightly.

Gus's eyes widened. "Shawn." He said, eyes never leaving the Doctor's. "The man has two hearts."

"Seriously?" Shawn asked. The Doctor nodded. "Cool! I want two hearts! Gus, c'mere. And, uh, hold still for about, two hours." Shawn picked up a scalpel. "I'm not gonna lie, this may sting a little" Shawn deadpanned.

"Shawn, get that thing away from me!" Gus hid behind the Doctor as Shawn attempted to poke Gus with the scalpel.

"Come on! You'll barely feel a thing!"

"That scalpel cut into a dead chick Shawn! I am not having you touch me with that thing!"

"Are you two always like this?" The Doctor interrupted.

"Pretty much!" Shawn yelled, still trying to attack Gus.

"And you mananged to trick everyone into believing you're a psychic for how many years?"

"I am a psychic!"

"About eight years!"

"Gus!" Shawn stopped going after Gus and put the scalpel down. "Why would you do that?"

"So you might put down that stupid scalpel. And it worked!"

"You're the one who's all 'Oh, Shawn, make sure to keep pretending to be psychic, I don't want to end up in jail' and you tell?!" Shawn exclaimed, doing a rather poor impression of Gus, in fact sounding more like Henry Spencer.

"First off, I do not sound like that! Secondly, if we do end up in jail because of this, I will sell you out faster that a concert ticket to a Coldplay concert. Third, the guy's an alien. I'm pretty sure he's good with secrets."

Shawn paused. "Who listens to Coldplay anymore?"

"I do Shawn. It's catchy and good workout music."

"Since when do you work out?"

Gus glanced at Martha, who was watching them with an amused expression. "I work out all the time."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do, Shawn. You don't know everything about me. I worked out just this morning. I took a jog through the hiking trail in the woods."

Shawn gave Gus a quick once-over. "Then how come the only bit of dirt in your shoes is sand from the beach? "

"I wore jogging shoes Shawn."

"Like those are a thing. Besides, on the extremely rare occasions you do go jogging, you make one of those disgusting health smoothies in the blender. The blender was devoid of any smoothie-ness, both good and disgusting."

"…I washed it."

"If you had, you would have noticed I replaced the dish soap with blueberry syrup. You did NOT work out today, and you are lying about it, which is kinda pathetic."

"I could have worked out."

"C'mon son."

"Anybody want to go after the aliens?" the Doctor asked.

"Wait…you put syrup in the dish soap."

"Of course not."

"Good."

"That would imply some soap remains. I replaced the soap with syrup."

"Seriously? Nice, bright aliens outside, just waiting to be tracked down."

"Why?" Gus asked Shawn.

"I was bored, and you were at your boring job."

"What's his job?" Martha asked.

"He sells drugs."

"Ignore him. I am a pharmaceutical representative."

"You sell drugs."

"I do not just 'sell drugs' Shawn. I make deals with large offices and convince doctors to use our high-quality products."

"Close enough."

"Martha, aliens?" The Doctor tried.

"This is kind of amusing."

"Fine!" Gus gave up. "Let's go. Do you have a car?" he asked the Doctor.

"My, uh, transport is kind of…incapacitated at the moment."

"Fine, I'll drive."

"Shotgun!" Shawn and the Doctor yelled at the same time.

"Seriously?" Martha and Gus asked their respective friends.

"What? I want to sit in the front." The Doctor responded.

"You can't call shotgun until you see the car." Gus pointed out.

Shawn and the Doctor looked at each other, and broke out into a run, both racing to get to the car.

Martha and Gus looked at each other, grinning.

"Is your friend always like this?" Martha asked.

"Sometimes he's worse. Yours?"

"As far as I can tell, he's either a child or this powerful, strong hero. Almost no in-between. And now I find out he's got a twin. How is Shawn when he's serious?"

Gus's smile dimmed. "I've only seen him serious a few times. It's never good."

Martha nodded. "Right, well, they're probably about to destroy your car. Shall we play referee?"

Gus smiled. "We'd better." He offered Martha his arm. "To the Blueberry?"

Martha laughed and slipped her arm in Gus's. "Yours is blue, too then?"

"Yup."

With that, they walked out of the morgue and to the car, where a pseudo-psychic and a nine-hundred year old alien were arguing over who called shotgun first.


End file.
